


A Boyfriend, To-Go

by Serenity_Stardust



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Christmas present for my pen pal, AU, Absolute fluff, All the sweetness, And everyone's gay, Cute, EVERYONE'S HUMAN, Fast Food, Fluffy, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oneshot, Sorry Not Sorry, Sweet, human story, ineffable husbands, its cute. Read it, rated for language, this ended up being so much more political than I originally planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenity_Stardust/pseuds/Serenity_Stardust
Summary: Crowley is just a nobody at his dead end job. He works, corporate level, for a fast food chain called "What the Clucks". It is a company that focuses on a more "healthy" fast food option for people, the main ingredient being, you guessed it... chicken. Anthony J. Crowley is just another overworked middle class secretary, riddled with mind numbing tasks that cost him long, drooling hours with little payback in return.But there is one thing that Crowley can count on. There is one thing that he gets to have every day that gives him just a little bit of happiness in a world full of hate and greed, and that thing is ten minutes a day with a kind looking cashier with piercing blue eyes, and a smile that is always so contagious.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 118





	A Boyfriend, To-Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ismira_Daugene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismira_Daugene/gifts).



> **OKAY. So. This is a gentle warning letting you know what there WILL be mistakes in here. It is NOT perfect, and I don't plan on going back anytime soon to fix anything. This is a goofy little story that I wrote for someone, and I LOVE it, as well as all of its imperfections. But it's the holiday's, my peeps, and I got stuff to do!**
> 
> **Merry Christmas, Michelle! You're gonna LOVE IT! You might hate me a little bit, but it was totally worth it!**
> 
> **Enjoy!**

**_A Boyfriend To-Go_ **

_oOo_

“I want this at my door in twenty, _Crawley_. Ya hear me-”

“Yeah yeah,” the lacky of a CEO is being screamed at by an angry voice on his phone. He walks into the fast food shop and wanders to the counter, “twenty minutes. Got it.” A tired and lanky redhead hangs up on the annoying voice as he faces a blonde cashier with a plump frame and kind demeanor.

“Welcome to **“What the Clucks!”** The employee says with a genuine smile. "How may I care for you today?" The white haired worker adds as the customer catches the sight of their piercing blue eyes. The redhead, clad with stylish sunglasses, winces at the happy-go-lucky voice of this check-out guy. Why do people have to be sooooo nice in this place all the damn time?

“I have a tall order for you.”

“Oh?” The cashier asks. His smile never leaves.

“Hope you have your fryers ready.”

Crowley is just a nobody at his dead end job. He works, corporate level, for a fast food chain- this fast food chain, to be exact. It is a company that focuses on a more "healthy" fast food option for people, the main ingredient being, you guessed it... chicken. Anthony J. Crowley is just another overworked middle class secretary, riddled with mind numbing tasks that cost him long, drooling hours with little payback in return.

“My, my. You sure do have a big appetite,” the blonde employee smiles at his own joke. The redheaded customer wants to roll his eyes at his words, but for some reason, he gives a small grin instead. “So many names.” His blue eyes glisten in the morning sunlight. “It’s hard to tell which one’s yours.”

Crowley completely misses the hint. “None of this is mine."

“You’re getting all of this food, and none of it is for you?” The thought of this seems to upset the kind man.

Crowley is still in work mode. “Bingo.” The customer slaps a fifty dollar bill at the counter. “Thanks.” He somehow manages to balance all the bags and six coffee’s on each arm.

“Whoa. This is too much. Would you like some help-”

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks. Bye.”

“Wait! Don’t you want your change?”

“Keep it. You deserve it after the crap I put you through.” The door to the establishment closes without another word, leaving a slightly confused blonde cashier with piercing blue eyes.

_oOo_

**“What the Clucks”** started as a mom and pop shop about a decade prior. They were a wholesome and prestigious family that liked to cook and _loved_ to preach. They managed to turn their small little business from a food truck to a multi-million dollar industry. Although Crowley’s boss, who refers himself to as Beez, (don’t ask anyone why), is the big boss of the entire company, he was graciously given this role by the original owners, with promises of a few little _favors_ that were ordered to be given in return. The deal required the restaurant franchise to donate a certain percentage of what is made to a particular list of organizations that are....controversial, at best. There is a specific direction that the owners would like to go through, and Beez is just the person to make sure the work gets done.

“Oh!” The blonde cashier instantly smiles to the familiar redheaded customer, fully equipped with sunglasses to shade him from the morning rays of the sun. “Hello again! Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah- I am so sorry.” The customer slams his hands down on the check-out counter.

“You’re... sorry?” The cashier asks in confusion.

“I have another stupid-tall order. I don’t want to make you do this, but I didn’t have time to call it in before hand, and-”

“Oh...” The blonde stranger understands. Crowley sees a twinge of worry in the bluest eyes that he has ever seen. “How big of an order is it?”

“It’s the same as yesterday.” Crowley scoffs with an irritated sigh. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me earlier. I could have called it in.” He leans forward to pull out a crumpled up note from his back pocket. “The asshole wants me to get it to them in twenty minutes, and they’ll have my head if I-”

“Say no more.” The blonde employee kindly stops the jabbering customer. “We can do this.” The cashier grins as he straightens the restaurant cap on his head. 

The nervous redhead calms with a soft grin. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally...”

This is the first time Crowley gives a real smile and it immediately spreads to the cashier behind the check-out screen. With a fierce nod and ready fingers, he signals to his customer with a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. “Aaand go!”

_oOo_

When Anthony J. Crowley first accepted this position, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. But he signed a contract, but the litigation is so air tight, it is a hot mess to try and get out of. When is not picking up Beez's laundry and taking coffee orders from the ENTIRE faculty on a corporate level, he is making back deals and doing less than legal things in the name of his boss. Such things often include acts of forging signatures, paying backers under the table, and lots of other fun stuff. Sure this is some damning and incriminating evidence, but Crowley does what he is told, because “it will be better for everyone in the long run, _Crawley_.” 

_Crawley_ is a lovely nickname that was given to him by his boss, and all of the others love to use it. It’s goofy and ridiculous like the way that they make him feel. He’s a bottom feeder at the end of the food chain. And the worst part of all of this is that he is forced to keep his private life extremely private with the risk of termination. He is forced to be included in things that threaten his very existence. Though throughout his time working here, he has learned that he isn't the only one who is working so dangerously with policies that challenge who he is. This redheaded nobody is absolutely fed up with all of this bullshit and he wants to get out of this rut full of asshole bosses, shitty company policies, and idiot co-workers. 

But.... why quit? 

What else is he meant to do?

What’s the point?

“Aah, good morning!” A ridiculously cheery cashier with short white blonde hair and piercing blue eyes greets the familiar customer in front of him.

“Well, it’s morning,” the familiar gentleman with shoulder length red hair and sunglasses slouches up against the other side of the check-out counter.

“It’s good to see you again.” The blonde cashier instantly smiles as he sees the familiar customer that has been coming in every day this week. “I’m starting to enjoy our little talks.”

“You won’t be so happy to see me after the news I have for you.” Guilt already curses the face of this nice customer.

“Another big order, eh?” The blonde smiles. “I am starting to expect it.” The cashier leans in towards the customer as if he were to tell a secret. “I already prepared the cooks. They’re expecting you.”

“Oh-” Crowley’s demeanor changes at this information. “You’re already learning my new routine better than I am.”

“That’s what great customer service is all about.” The short haired cashier smiles brightly. His piercing blue eyes are doing that twinkly thing again. Crowley can’t look away from them.

“Well, maybe you can lead me to a place where I can leave a soaring review.” Crowley’s smile is slightly more noticeable this time around.

The compliment causes an unexpected gasp from the worker. “Oh you’re such a sweet talker.” He over exaggerates in a joking manner.

“I-” _Shake it off, Crawley!_ Crowley furiously blinks his thoughts away. “I don’t know why he started insisting on doing this every morning, all of the sudden. I can never figure out his weird... “ism’s”.”

“That’s why it’s best to work with a team. It’s ridiculous that he expects you to do this all on your own every morning.” The cashier tisks shamefully at his customer’s boss.

No one really ever talks to Crowley these days. He is usually pretty quiet and to himself. He barely even knows his own co-worker’s so he wonders how some random... _perfect_ stranger knows just what to say to change his day, if only slightly, for the better. This really catches Crowley off guard and he can feel his own blush growing. He gently smiles in gratitude as he tears his gaze from the pretty- _uhh-_ piercing blue eyes. “Umm-”

“Yeah! Uhh-” The cashier nervously chuckles as Crowley could swear that he could see a soft blush on the blonde’s round cheeks as well. “Order when you’re ready!” His smile is always contagious.

_oOo_

Crowley doesn’t have anywhere to go, and not really anything to do. He doesn’t have a whole lot of friends, and his co-workers are always trying to use him to mooch their way up the corporate ladder. All that waits for him at home is his pet snake, which he named Button after his cute little button eyes. There isn’t a whole lot to his life other than facing the daily grind.

He wished that he had the balls to quit; he wished that he could just say a swift “Fuck you!” to his boss and walk right out the doors of the shitty CEO building of the shitty corporation that is swindling money and donating to REALLY shitty causes that can cause harm to real people. He wishes that he was in a position to leave, but who quits a corporate job with ridiculously good health insurance in this day and age? Crowley swears that’s how all corporations get their human slaves nowadays. 

Work is really starting to wear on Crowley, yet no one seems to give enough of a damn to take notice. 

Well... almost no one.

“Not the best morning, I gather?” The familiar blonde man asks, seeing his friend’s scorned face.

“Is it that obvious?”

"Hmm..." the blonde playfully thinks. “Would it pep you up if I gave you a proper **“What the Clucks”** welcome?” The cashier smiles knowing fully well that this is not what this particular customer would ever want.

The redhead groans as he feverishly shakes his head, “ _Please...._ ” he says leaning dramatically over the counter of the check out line, “anything but that. I already hear it about twenty thousand times a day.”

The blonde gasps. “I didn’t know you worked at a **“What the Clucks”** food chain, too!” The twinkle returns in the sapphire eyes that gaze to the sunglasses covered face that belongs to Crowley, though it confuses the plump looking blonde gentleman as to why anyone at one food chain would order so much food from another location. 

“What- no,” Crowley sighs, “it’s way worse than that.” He suddenly feels a buzz in his pant leg pocket. He pulls out his phone to see, yet another degrading text from his boss. He sighs again, this time putting a hand up to his head for an oncoming migraine.

“Your boss getting onto you, too, eh?” The cashier can sense the unease in his customer. "Mine just got on to me for being too flamboyant.” He scoffs at the idea. “They tell us to be happy and inviting, but apparently I am _too_ happy and inviting, if you know what I mean." The blonde rolls his eyes at the memory. Crowley knows exactly what he means and this doesn't set well with him. Yet regardless of how hard the blonde sighs, his smile somehow never seems to leave.

Crowley subconsciously grins. “You have a snotty, sleazy boss, too?” He asks as he looks around the polished and brightly colored room. “Doesn’t surprise me. All the higher up’s are just as greasy and slimy as the rest. They’re greedy, slimy creatures of the underworld by the way they run this company.”

“You seem to know a lot about the higher up’s of this place.” The cashier says in a more curious tone. He can’t seem to stop looking at how the firey red hair perfectly frames his face.

“That’s what happens when you’re the lap dog of the CEO of the **"What the Clucks"** food chain.”

The cashier’s pretty- _uhh_ \- piercing blue eyes grow with each word. “You’re... the _what?!_ ”

“Yeah- umm-”Crowley doesn’t want to draw too much attention to this detail. “Listen, regardless of how much I'm-well...” Crowley chuckles without even thinking about it. “I’m really enjoying our little chat, but... can we-umm...” He lightly blushes at his push to hurry this up. “I’m kind of on a time crunch, here.” 

The friendly cashier furiously blinks to clear his mind of any distractions. He has to look away from the customer in order to do that. “Oh right!” He nods in agreement, noticing the sore topic. “Alrighty, so... the usual-” He says already starting the order on their screen, blushing at what he believes to be ridiculous habit of verbal tangents. Crowley would disagree, if he read the thoughts of the kind man in front of him. For him, it’s a nice change of pace. Crowley deems it a breath of much needed fresh air.

_oOo_

Day after day, Crowley wakes up, at 8:30 A.M and has to be to work by 9:42. He slugs his sleepy body out of bed and slithers about his loft as he starts his day. He puts on the same shirt, the same vest, the same pants, and the same boots. He’s been getting these messages from his boss every single weird time of 9:13A.M. requiring the assistance of his lacky to pick up the usual order of a dozen coffees and a stupid long list of breakfast options that is custom ordered for each of Beez’s inner circle. One would think that Crowley would be apart of that inner circle since he has been the middle man of too many of his boss’s dirty jobs, but no. He just gets a funny nickname that the inner circle uses to belittle his existence.

But there is one thing that Crowley can count on. There is one thing that he gets to have every day that gives him just a little bit of happiness in a world full of hate and greed.

“Morning.” Crowley decides to start the warm hello’s this time. He sees the familiar blonde head of hair quickly spin at the sound of the familiar voice. 

“You’re feeling a bit better today.” The nameless cashier greets the familiar face with his piercing blue eyes and contagious smile.

Now that Crowley thinks about it...

“Why don’t you ever wear a nametag?” Crowley suddenly asks. “I’ve seen you every day for the last week, and not once have I seen a name on you.”

“Huh?” The blonde looks down at his plump frame and remembers, “oh, I don’t have one yet.” He shrugs with too much understanding. “It’ll be in the mail, they said.” His voice is chipper, but Crowley can sense a little bit of doubt as his shoulders slouch.

“How long ago was that?” Crowley asks as his brows curl at the saddened look on the cashier’s face.

“Three months ago.”

“What?!”

“I-I have asked since then, but... they just give me the same answer.” 

“Where’s your manager? This isn’t acceptable.” Crowley starts to get angry at the very thought of this poor guy not even getting a name. But his thoughts are plagued with laughter that booms from the kitchen at his question. He only grows more confused.

“He- uhh... He isn’t here very often.”

“What?” Crowley’s eyes grows darker.

“Not that I am that upset about it, mind you.” He tries to chuckle, remembering who his customer really is. “He can be a little... off putting at times.”

“I’ll make sure to make a note of that-”

“Not- not that he is a bad manager!” The cashier is quick to defend his boss. “I’m sure he just has a lot on his plate. He does do quite a lot for this location, or so I hear.” The nervousness doesn’t settle Crowley’s nerves on the subject.

“I’m sure I can pull a few strings-”

“Oh no... _Please_. That’s- that’s not necessary.” The gentle man says with that contagious smile and his... damn blue eyes. “Really.” His voice sounds reassuring. “Now,” The cashier turns on his customer service voice again. Crowley knows that this is his way of changing the subject. “We are going to have twelve coffee’s and the usual.” His demeanor returns to his classic happy-go-lucky self.

“Oh... yeah-” Crowley almost forgot why he had showed up, in the first place. “Let me get the... thing-” He starts to pull up the stupid custom menu that his boss makes him order every morning for his team.

“No need. That will be $42.75. As per usual, the blonde gives a smile of pride, awaiting a response. The voice catches the redhead’s attention. His eyes slightly grow.

“You...” Crowley viciously blinks. “You know the order by heart?”

“Oh, come now. It’s not hard to remember twelve coffees, a round of chicken sandwiches, one of each of our delicious six sides, two of every sauce, twenty-four packets of syrup, and a partridge and a pear tree.” That one got a good and refreshing chuckle out of both of them.

“You’re one hell of a cashier.”

“And you’re a heavenly customer.” His smile refuses to leave. “And my name is Aziraphale.” He becomes a little more shy at the sound of his own name. “I hope I get the honor of knowing yours, Mr. CEO.”

“Heh,” Crowley chuckles at the sound, but he didn’t like the way that sounded, at all. “I’m Crowley. And I’m not one of those robots.”

“Cheers to that.” Aziraphale, says with his continuing smile and the twinkle of his lovely blue eyes. It is a mutual feeling of gratitude to finally know each other’s names.

As Crowley is packing his arms with the fresh food and drink, he notices that there is an extra coffee added to the mix.

“W-wait. This is too many-”

“No it’s not,” Aziraphale says. “This one’s for you.” He adds as he comes from around the counter to pick up some of the heavy lifting. “It’s a little something special I made. Good for energy. I’m excited to hear how you like it.” He smiles as he takes half the work load out to Crowley’s car, and surprising Crowley further on the fact that Aziraphale knows which car is actually his.

Crowley looks down to see his name written in such pretty handwriting with what looked like a more expensive red marker. His breath is caught at the surprise. He doesn’t even realize that he is gazing in Aziraphale’s direction, but he is able to catch himself before he is caught staring.

This is interesting. 

Crowley will continue to process this while making damn sure that his drink will last as long as physically possible.

_oOo_

He _really_ likes the drink that Aziraphale had made especially for him.

_oOo_

This routine starts to become exactly that, a routine. He doesn’t slither and mope quite as much as he would get himself ready, at least until he gets the hella annoying text from his boss at exactly 8:42 A.M. But this time, he doesn’t feel as bothered to have to go to the restaurant. Especially since he finally got the right mind to call the place right after he gets the text to expect another big order. It’s a good feeling to know that he gets to walk into the fast food joint with a good attitude for once.

At least he thought would until he got a grueling phone call at exactly 8:59 A.M.

“Yes?”

“What did I tell you to do with that money order that I sent away with you yesterday?”

Crowley’s cheeks flush completely out of color. “M-money order?” He sounds surprised by this information. “What money order.”

“WHAT MONEY ORDER?!”

Well... Crowley was in a good mood.

He resumes to letting his boss chew out his ear as he drives to the restaurant down the street from the house. He finds himself almost speeding, ready to get inside, get this order over with, and get his bloody boss off the phone and... that’s it.

Why else would he be speeding to his local **“What the Clucks”** at 8:02 in the morning?

He manages to get his boss to leave him be... for now. “Just wait until I see that pathetic, bony arse,” is the last thing Crowley hears before the soothing click of the phone hanging up.

With a brooding sigh, he slithers into the doorway of the small little nothing of a restaurant.

“You’re getting good at this.” The familiar voice instantly changes Crowley’s posture from hunched over to straight as a pin.

“Huh?”

“You called beforehand and it really put the pressure off of my cooks.” The familiar face of the blonde cashier smiles nice and wide. “It was very kind of you to think of us. You’re really getting good at this.”

Was that a... a compliment? Did someone give Crowley a compliment? Is that what that was? He doesn’t really know since he really doesn’t have any other experience to compare it to.

“Umm... heh.” Crowley doesn’t really know how to accept compliments. “Uh thanks.” He walks up to the counter.

"Oh dear, am I being too...." Aziraphale fidgets with his hands, "-too much? Gabriel did tell me that I needed to watch myself-"

"What- no!" Crowley instinctively responds without thinking. This sudden outburst causes Aziraphale to pause his movements. Crowley’s eyes grow at his own surprising outburst. "I-uhh-no. I-I just.... don't know how to... people... sometimes." He nervously scratches his head. "I-thanks. For the- _*cough*_ -" He feels like he's making it worse.

Aziraphale smiles. "I take it that you don't get many compliments?"

"Yeah." Crowley exhales a little more calmly. "That." Their eyes meet in this moment. "But you're not being too much of anything." Crowley wants to be clear. "Your boss seems like he is giving you a bit of mixed signals. He tells you to be happy and be kind, but you can’t be... too happy, or too kind?"

Aziraphale bites down on his bottom lip, careful with his words. “Gabriel can be a bit... presumptuous at times, but I don’t mind.” The kind employee tries to smile. “Honestly, I’m just glad I have a job right now.”

“Oh man, I hear that. _Believe me_ .” Crowley’s _lovely_ red hair gets caught in the exaggerated wind of the last few words. “Trust me. Being the walking mat for the royal asshat of a CEO is not as glamorous as it sounds.” The thought of his own job manages to darken his mood. “No one cares enough to make anything right. It’s all a shit show up there.”

Hearing this causes a stir within the kind looking cashier. “Well, I care.” Aziraphale reiterates as his eyes twinkle in the morning sunlight. “Perhaps... maybe I care a little too much.”

“Naaah.” Crowley’s response almost flows without his permission. His eyes suddenly hits the cashier’s piercing blue gaze. “You’re perfect.” He tries to dismiss the obvious compliment. “More people should look to you on how to treat people.” Crowley looks away, but grins just enough for Aziraphale to take notice. “It makes a difference.”

There is a new change in atmosphere that they both start to recognize. This new sensation causes fear to erupt for Aziraphale as he rips his piercing gaze away from the man with the stylish sunglasses. “U-umm...” He clears his throat to change the subject. “Ready for your order whenever you are.” Crowley hears the customer service voice return. He looks to see a different look to the cashier’s eyes as he speaks, but he can’t seem to figure out what it is.

_oOo_

Things are taking a deeper turn within the company. Some information has been leaked about the **“What the Clucks”** industry, and the public are starting to question the ethics of this vastly growing fast food chain. Things are becoming more and more difficult for anyone who could be considered a target for elimination. Crowley needs to be on his guard, these days. He needs to be careful and tread lightly. He doesn’t want to lose the job that he has. He can’t afford to lose this shitty job. 

He needs to be careful.

But...

“Good morning, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice is always so nice and airy when he welcomes people in. 

“G’morning,” Crowley takes this moment to lift his sunglasses into his long hair as they become laced within the locks of his hair. This is the first time that his eyes aren’t readily hidden behind black specs. Aziraphale is surprisingly greeted with the warmest honey-colored eyes he had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. 

Aziraphale mentally shakes his mind back to the present. “The food is being prepared as we speak. It will only be a few minutes.”

“Oh good,” He nods in agreement. He had been calling the food order in now, even before getting the text from his boss in the morning. It is good for the workers of the establishment, but Crowley would by lying to himself if he didn’t admit to hating that this shaves a lot of time away from their little idle chats. This thought lingers in Crowley’s mind for a bit. He isn’t too fond of this idea at all. “The-uhh.... Drink you made for me,” Crowley suddenly blurts as he continues to swim in his thoughts. “It was good.” Aziraphale pauses his movements as he looks to him, which might have proved to me a mistake since their eyes locked immediately. “It should be on the menu.” He adds.

Aziraphale had never smiled so brightly. “Oh... dear,” His eyes had never twinkled in such a way before. His entire self was radiating in happiness, and Crowley feels a sense of accomplishment in being able to give this small victory to his new friend. “Thank you.”

“With the things that you’ve told me about your work environment, you deserve to be complimented more often.”

“You’re-” Azirahpale’s breath is caught in his throat. “You’re too kind.”

“Nah.” Crowley dismisses the very idea. “I’m not a very nice person.”

“Oh, I very much believe you are.” Their eyes lock again. “And, if I am to be so bold,” Aziraphale adds with a different kind of smile, “you are deserving of a few compliments, yourself.” They look to one another a little longer this time around, and they would stare into each other’s eyes all day if the bell hadn’t rung for the order to be complete. This makes the small moment of longing come to an end as they forcibly tear their gaze away from one another.

“Order up!” Aziraphale enters customer service mode with a smile that is always contagious.

_oOo_

Things have begun to go haywire at the **“What the Clucks”** main office. The demands on Crowley’s plate just keep on growing with each passing day. Some facts are leaking about the company, and it is up to Crowley to turn them into rumors and lies. He feels as though a little bit of his sanity escapes every time his boss makes him do something sketchy and illegal. It especially hurts when he has to pretend that he is in agreement with the policies and beliefs that directly affect and threaten his life. He isn’t sure how much longer he can take it. But his workload has become so full and so ridiculous, that he no longer has the time to look for another place to work. Part of him wonders if this is what his boss is trying to do to him, and the other part of him is in absolute agreement.

If it wasn’t for his morning’s and the (small amount of) time to be able to speak and smile with Aziraphale, he doesn’t know how he would keep himself from going absolutely apeshit.

“Welcome to **“What the Clucks”** , where you get the most clucks for your bing-bang buck!” Crowley confusedly walks up to the check-out counter to see a new face standing where Aziraphle should be standing. “How may I help you today?” 

Crowley doesn’t speak right away. He is immediately riddled with questions and disappointment at not being able to see who he needed to see this morning. This tall man stands erect with short, dark hair and a fake smile. His stature appears to be more intimidating rather than inviting. Just before he speaks, he sees that the cashier has a name tag that reads the name Gabriel. _Oh._

“Where’s Aziraphale?” Crowley demands more than questions, completely forgetting the inquiry about food.

“Who? Oh-” The smug grin on the man’s face brings a certain level of anger to Crowley. “The... really _happy_ one.” The inflection leaves a bad taste in Crowley’s mouth. “He was let go. He didn’t represent what the company expects from their employees. But we do have a delicious special on our-”

“Yeah, yeah- I called in for an order...” Crowley’s temper is short and feisty. This blood starts to boil at the very idea of Aziraphale being let go. Why would they let him go?! What on this earth could possibly possess anyone to believe that he didn’t represent this company? Crowley knows the complete in’s and out’s of the manual of what the perfect **“What the Cluck”** staff member should be. He was attentive, kind, inviting, warm, kind, nice, happy-

Too happy.

Crowley knows exactly what that means.

He leaves without collecting his order. He hears the complaints of a stressed and angry manager who has to clean this mess up if the customer doesn’t get what he called in for. He heads straight to work to have a chat with his lovely boss.

_oOo_

Crowley’s heels hit the polished floor of his work building. His footsteps are fast and eager as he cleverly avoids everyone in his way, with his Boss’s door straight in his vision. He is angry. He is done. He is going to give Beez a piece of his mind.

Shoving the double doors open, he is greeted with a room full of muted gray colors, be it the furniture, the walls, the floor, or the suits in the grey seats of the circular room with a view of the city that only angels would be able to appreciate. Beez turns to see who had burst into his room without warning, but sighs as he sees his lackey. “Aah, _Crawley._ ” He looks down to the little clock on his computer. “Good, you’re early. My elite were starting to get famished.” Crowley watches his boss as he dismisses the very fact that Crowley is empty handed. “After you pass out everyone’s breakfast I’ll need you to go and find the-”

“No.” Crowley says standing right smack dab in the middle of the CEO office.

His boss, Beez slowly sits up right at his desk. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Crowley hisses as the entire room of Beez’s elite watches in anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Beez sits for a moment with obvious anger in his eyes. He slowly inhales. “Okay, maybe you didn’t hear me correctly.” He slowly exhales. “I was not asking-”

“Neither am I.” Crowley cuts him off.

His anger shows just a little bit more. “Who the hell do you think you are coming into my conference room and acting-”

“Yeah, I’m not here to discuss acts or _ethics_ with a pathetic, soulless creature like you.” These words spill out of Crowley like lava, and gasps are heard all over the room. “I’m out. I fucking quit. I’m not doing any of this anymore.” 

The elite of the room all look to their boss for his response. Beez stands from his large, circular chair. “You, Anthony J. Crowley are contracted by this corporation. I own you and I own your only chance at a half decent job in this entire country. You’re not going to leave.”

“Oh, yes I am.” Crowley dares to take many steps closer. “You may be able to sell your soul and hide behind some mask, but I’m done pretending. Now, I don’t give a shit if you keep on trying to hide the fact that you are as GAY as Elton John on a hot date, but you’re not going to drag me down with you. You can keep paying and bribing people under the table to keep things quiet about what this company is really about, but I’m not. I’m done staying quiet. I’m done with the hurt that this company puts people through. I. QUIT.” Crowley finally finishes with the sight of a wide eyed boss that sits in shock of what had just been exposed into an entire room full of open ears and chatty mouths.

“You...”

“Feel free to send my performance review by email. I’ll be sure to mark it as spam.” Crowley doesn’t give this pathetic man a chance to respond as he leaves this forsaken office for good. “And consider yourself sued.”

_oOo_

It had been a few weeks since Crowley’s dramatic exit from one of the most toxic companies ever created. After what Crowley had shared with Beez’s elite, more stories and breaking news articles keep popping up about the large fast food company. People all over the world are not taking the rumors that they keep hearing very well, and it has only gotten worse since the CEO was outed as homosexual inside of the doors of his own company, a company that admittedly donated lots of money towards harmful and inhumane ways that they treat people of his sexual stature. By the looks of the endless facts that had been dug up, it was learned that they treated the livestock of their food better than they treat their own employees, not to mention the other humans that had been affected by their back room deals and sketchy money laundering for terrible and inhumane organizations.

And because this company had been so riddled with many leaks and rumors that ended up being true, there was a huge scandal on the CEO of the company. It was quickly learned that he had been having a secret affair with one of his male managers that ran one of the chains in the area. And because there had been so many lies and cover-ups, no one had even bothered to question or drill Crowley on the legitimacy of his claims. Sometimes it pays to be a nobody and to be apart of the crowd of nameless faces.

Crowley has been in contact with a few lawyers that have given him a chance to a small settlement of a few hundred thousand dollars after the blatant abuse of power that his previous boss had thrusted upon his workers, but these things take years to process.

But Crowley doesn’t have years to pay his rent.

It has also been a few weeks since he has seen Aziraphale. It shouldn’t affect him as much as it has, but he has come to admit that he had started to care for this person. Crowley doesn’t have many friends. He had little to no relationship with any family, and Button the snake doesn’t say a whole lot. He admits that it was refreshing to be able to converse and get to know someone that was actually interested in who he was, what he had to say, and if he had even eaten that day.

He missed the little things, like the way Aziraphle would try to refrain from getting too excited when he’d smile. He enjoyed watching his eyes glisten when something good happened to someone. Aziraphale just enjoyed happiness, and he enjoyed spreading that happiness even more. It was a very refreshing change of pace from a place that had been so agonizingly guresome for so long. Crowley is a little beside himself with what to do next.

Walking down a busy city street, he goes looking for any and every help wanted sign he sees, be it tax agencies, barber shops, doggy daycares, or thrift stores. He had been on a solid job hunt for these last few weeks, and his savings will only get him so far before he really starts to get into trouble. 

He sits on a bus stop bench in defeat. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with himself, now. With a heavy sigh, he sees his bus coming a few blocks away until he suddenly eyes a “Help Wanted” sign on what looked to be some sort of corner store bookshop right next to an “Open Soon” sign. If it’s not open, yet, then there may be a chance that he could get a job on the spot.

Looking at how close his bus is, he dismisses it and runs across the street to see if he his luck could possibly turn around.

And boy does it turn.

It couldn’t be any better. 

He freezes as soon as he is able to see through the large windows. There were stacks upon stacks of books, empty shelves, mismatched furniture and...

A white haired gentleman who is standing on a ladder, organizing books. Crowley can’t help but smile wide at this lovely surprise. He watches as his white haired friend with the plump figure was okay... Better than okay.

Gently knocking on the window pane, Aziraphale pauses in his movements as his piercing blue eyes met with Crowley’s.

His books hit the floor through the shock of seeing his friend at the window. Aziraphale almost trips as he practically runs to the door. His smile is vivid and oh, so bright as he eagerly opens to fully see his all too familiar redheaded friend. “Crowley!” Hearing his name coming from him is almost too much for his heart. He never thought that he would see him again. “I can’t believe it!” Aziraphale’s smile is always so contagious. His body language shows utter excitement.

“I-uhh...” Crowley is still trying to figure out words, as if his mind had to do a complete factory reset upon gazing into those... beautiful blue eyes. “I saw your help wanted sign. I didn’t know you owned a bookshop.”

Aziraphale hums at the very new reality of his. Crowley had never seen a bigger and more inviting smile. “I didn’t.” He looks to his pride and joy behind them. “But after I got fired, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. So I decided to take a chance. This is my dream.” Their eyes never leave one another. “Here’s hoping.”

“That’s.... That’s amazing.” Crowley feels inspired by the pluck of his friend.

“What about you?” Aziraphale’s smile fades as he comes to the realization of Crowley’s situation. “What happened?”

“I happened, actually.” Crowley admits. “It turns out that managers don’t like it when you out them in front of the entire world.”

Aziraphale gasps. “This sounds like a long and complicated story.” He brushed the book dust off of his hands and reaches for the keys to the building in his back pocket. “How about lunch? I’d love to hear all of the juicy details.”

Crowley nods in response. “I know a great burger joint down the street,” he says as he offers an arm. “Have someone else take your order, for a change.”

Aziraphale accepts it with a slight blush. “My treat.” He responds as he slides his arm through Crowley’s with ease. They seem to fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle. “And this time you will actually get to eat what you order.” The lovely blonde adds as they go about their merry way.

Crowley and Aziraphale had never felt so... complete.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> **Okay. Listen.... This is an absolute mess of a story, and I love it so much! I wrote this for my penpal, who is also a fellow writer on here. She was talking about how she had befriended her friendly neighborhood Drive-Thru lady at her local McDonalds, and they became good friends through their small 2 minute talks every day. She jokingly referred to her as her drive-thru girlfriend and THIS MONSTER is what became of this idea.**
> 
> **To be clear... This is NOT how I imagined the story going. I didn't plan on getting as... Political..? as I did, but it worked for what I needed. The chaotic mess full of stupid current events that plague a certain chicken fast food chain that most of us know is just that. Chaotic and messy. I just want it to be known that this is a work of FICTION, and this story was written for entertainment ONLY. I am not trying to insinuate anything of anyone. I was just having a good time and writing some cute fanfiction. That's it.**
> 
> **So this story is a hotbed of crazy, and it was SO much fun to write. I am so glad to see this little idea worked as well as it did.**


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